


Timing is Everything

by Castile181



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Face Slapping, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Premarital Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6789946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castile181/pseuds/Castile181
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparring practice takes an unexpectedly steamy turn when Celeborn and Galadriel get into an argument about how to break the news of their courtship to Finrod, who happens to arrive in Doriath at an extremely inopportune moment. </p>
<p>Prompt: Finrod finds Celeborn masturbating to his sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timing is Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [merryismaytime2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/merryismaytime2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Finrod finds Celeborn masturbating to his sister.

“You know Finrod is arriving today,” Galadriel panted, turning and bringing her spear to bear against Celeborn’s battleax. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the deserted courtyard. Of course she knew that Celeborn was aware of her brother’s imminent arrival from Nargothrond, but the question had been meant to be rhetorical, a means to goad her lover into a conversation that he was reluctant to have.

“It could hardly have escaped my notice,” Celeborn said between breaths. “Thingol never stops talking about your brother’s endeavors.” He flashed her a grin, holding up a hand, bidding her to pause for a moment while he flicked open the golden clasps of his amber colored tunic. The rich silk, embroidered in intricate patterns of turquoise and burnt orange thread, was already soaked with sweat and he shrugged it off, tossing it away. 

Galadriel could feel sweat trickling down her back as well. The summers in Doriath were not so very hot but she and Celeborn had been sparring for nearly an hour now and the effects of the strenuous exercise were beginning to take their toll. She reached up, wiping her hand across her forehead, brushing back the strands of golden hair that has escaped her braid as her eyes lit upon those of her lover. His eyes were green as the pines and glimmering with mirth as he shot her a smile and rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt. 

The sight of the flimsy, sweat dampened fabric of the shirt clinging to her lover’s well-muscled form caused the warmth of pleasure to curl in her stomach. It was late afternoon now and the golden haze of sunlight that filtered down from the clear blue sky of Menegroth’s enchanted ceiling through the emerald leaves of the beech trees that lined the courtyard, their roots having long ago splintered the granite paving stones, paid absolute tribute to Celeborn’s sun-bronzed skin, to the strong lines of his body.

Galadriel, thinking to tease him, reached for the tie at the neck of her shirt, tugging gently, and the shirt fell open along the neckline, exposing the hollow of her throat, the elegant line of her clavicle, just barely revealing the curves of her breasts. Celeborn laughed, wiping sweat away from his brow, and tightened the long silver ponytail that he had tied high on the back of his head before he took his axe to hand again.

“Is that how you think you’ll win?” He said with a wink, approaching her slowly, his axe held at the ready.

“Perhaps,” she said, and Celeborn struck but she pivoted, evading the blow, catching the blade of his axe on her spear as she came back around to face him. They stood, locked in combat, both trying to judge the moment in which they could leap away unscathed.

“Celeborn, please don’t say anything to Finrod, I beg you,” she said and Celeborn’s leaf green eyes flashed in irritation, a muscle clenching in his jaw as, with an almighty shove, he pushed his blade hard against hers, causing her to stumble away.

“Do you think that this entire kingdom doesn’t already know that we’re lovers?” Celeborn asked her, his words tense with the beginnings of anger. This was a conversation they had already had many times, each ending unresolved in an uncomfortable détente. “I know you think we’re being covert, Galadriel, but no matter how much silver we use to line our servants’ purses, I can guarantee you that it has not entirely bought their silence. I’m the prince of Doriath; privacy is a luxury to which I am not privy. I am certain that Thingol knows, though he has been polite enough to refrain from speaking to me about it, and if you think that Melian isn’t aware then....”

“Be that as it may,” Galadriel retorted, blocking his blow – he had swung harder than usual and she grunted at the impact, “no one will dare say anything to my brother about us. He’d be furious if he knew, Celeborn. It isn’t anything against you personally, it’s just that he’ll always see me as his little sister. And besides, you swore to him when he left to found Nargothrond that you would ensure my well-being in his stead.”

“I have ensured your well being,” Celeborn said, his voice bitter, and Galadriel jabbed her spear forward, nearly catching him off guard, but he knocked her blade away at the last moment with the handle of his axe.

“Well yes,” Galadriel argued, “but you also took me to your bed and I am quite certain that was not what he intended when he told you to make sure I was happy.”

“You’re always very happy indeed when you’re in my bed,” Celeborn said with a grin, his eyes sparking with mischief. 

“Celeborn!” Galadriel hissed, her face flushing pink. “I want you to take this seriously!”

“I am taking it seriously,” Celeborn replied, but Galadriel thought she had detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

“You don’t understand!” She said. “That sort of thing just isn’t done amongst the Noldor! Emotionally, it would be very difficult for Finrod to accept. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Then how long will we keep up this charade, pretending at friendship in public while in private we sneak into each other’s beds, have done with as quickly as we’re able, then slip away again before we’re discovered?”

“Well however long is appropriate I suppose…” She stammered, blocking another blow and stumbling backwards from the force of it. Celeborn’s eyes were lit with anger.

“That’s not what I want with you,” Celeborn growled, a sweeping blow knocking her spear away and it clattered as it skittered across the ancient stones of the courtyard. He brought his axe up, thrusting the handle of it flat against her chest, pushing her back into the stone wall. They were both breathing hard now, panting from exertion, shirts clinging to them with perspiration, and she glared angrily back as he fixed her with a ferocious gaze, the gleaming blade of his axe at her throat.

“I want your hand in courtship, publicly, permission given before my court, publicly. I want everyone in Doriath, in Arda, to know that you’re mine and I’m yours,” he said, his voice a whisper but the words filled with the unshakeable conviction of passion. 

“Celeborn that’s…that’s just not possible right now…we have to gradually acclimate people to the idea of a Sinda and a Noldo…” Galadriel said, rolling her eyes and looking away. She felt the bite of the blade of Celeborn’s axe at her throat and gasped, feeling a thin rivulet of blood trickling down her neck. “You cut me!” She exclaimed, incensed. 

“Look at me,” Celeborn commanded and she turned furious eyes to his. 

“How dare you?” She spat. 

“Oh I dare,” he growled, his breath hot against her lips. “I dare to want to love you without shame. I dare to wish to proclaim my love for you to anyone who will listen. I would dare to ask your brother for your hand in marriage. I would dare to make you my wife. I would dare to let the whole world know you by the name that I have given you, Galadriel.”

“They’ll never like it so why should we wait for them,” he continued. Let’s not wait for the world to change Galadriel, let’s change the world ourselves. And if they don’t like it then let them rage against us, let them pen their treatises on morality and their furious proclamations condemning us, and when we rise to power then let us burn those same proclamations to ash in the fire of our love, let them kindle our flame, and may woe befall any who stand against us. I want you to stand beside me as my queen; and there is neither god not elf who can prevail upon me to accept anything less than that.”

Galadriel stared at him wide eyed, drawing deep ragged breaths. “Oh Eru,” she whispered, her body quivering with want, the blood in her veins screaming with desire for him.

“What’s Eru got to do with any of this?” Celeborn spat. 

“Fuck me,” Galadriel whispered. 

The speed with which Celeborn dropped his axe and kicked it away was remarkable and in the next instant he had slammed her back against the wall, pinning her there, hands trembling as he cradled her face between them, his hips pressed hard against hers where she could feel his desire for her straining against the laces of his breeches. His eyes, hooded with lust, met hers for an instant before he brushed his lips tenderly against hers. Galadriel relished it because she knew it would be the last tender thing about this encounter.

And sure enough, in the next moment she felt her lover’s hands grasping her bottom and pulling her up, her shirt catching and tearing against the rough stone of the wall. Once her legs were wrapped securely about his waist he pressed her back against the wall again, the muscles of his chest firm against her breasts.

Celeborn bent his mouth to her neck, licking away the blood, gently sucking at the cut he had given her, hoping to soothe the wound. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. “My apologies for the…” he began, but Galadriel interrupted him, her fingers working furiously at the laces of his breeches.

“Just fuck me,” she pleaded and he happily obliged, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of her breeches as she pulled him free of his own and began to stroke him. He had little patience for that and wrapped one arm beneath her bottom to hold her up while, with his other hand he grasped his cock, pressing against her entrance.

Galadriel groaned, pushing her head back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, her pink lips parted, her breasts heaving as she gasped for air. “Please, Celeborn!” She whimpered quietly and he could feel the pounding of his blood in his veins, the sight of her so eager for him unspeakably erotic. He pressed forward but, though she was wet, she was not wet enough yet and he didn’t wish to risk tearing her. He retreated for a moment, rubbing the head of his cock against her, and she opened her eyes, confused. With his hip he pressed her against the wall so that he could free his hand and wrap it in her golden hair instead.

“What’s the matter?” She whispered, concerned, but he caught her bottom lip between his teeth as he gently pressed forward again. Yet again she did not part readily for him and so, with a groan of passion restrained, he moved his lips to her ear. 

“Dammit Galadriel, let me in!” He growled, tugging hard on her hair, his voice low and dangerous, and he heard her gasp in response, a torrent of sticky liquid coursing down his cock. He entered her easily this time, in a single fluid motion, not stopping until he was flush against her. “Full now?” He purred, brushing his thumb across her cheek. Galadriel stared at him, wide-eyed, her lips parted as if she could not believe what had happened. She nodded.

“Say it,” he commanded her, lightly tapping his fingers against the elegant line of her jaw. 

“I’m full,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, tapping his fingers against her cheek, harder this time. “In Quenya.”

“Slap me,” Galadriel pleaded, eyes wide, surprised at her own audacity. She had never asked him for such a thing before and he hesitated for a moment before he complied, bringing the flat of his hand against her face. The skin of her cheek burned red in response but he felt her cunt grasp him so tightly that he could not have withdrawn even if he had wanted to.

“I’m so full,” she gasped in Quenya, readily complying with his command. 

“Very good,” he whispered against her lips as he pulled her breeches further down her legs so that he could grasp her bottom, his fingers kneading the tender flesh. Her blue eyes were blazing with passion and she closed them as he brought his lips to bear against hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth, her lips were firm and soft against his and she kissed him fervently, as if she wished to devour him, but he drew back, nipping at her lips, teasing her as he began to thrust, rocking his hips forward into her body. 

He groaned, relishing in the tight heat of her cunt that clenched about him each time he withdrew, as if she did not wish to let him go. It was hard to hold himself back when they made love. He wanted nothing more than to pound into her furiously and spill himself deep within her, but she never let him do that no matter how much he longed for it. “Tell me, Celeborn,” she pleaded, one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, the other beneath her shirt, massaging her own breasts, “tell me how it feels for you. Tell me how you feel when you’re in me.”

“You feel so good, Galadriel,” he whispered against the skin of her throat as he pressed a kiss to the tender skin there. “You feel so tight around me, so hot, so wet. I want to bury myself in you over and over again.” She moaned at the praise and he continued, heightening her pleasure. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He murmured, drawing her into a kiss once more. “Do you know how fucking hard it is for me to stand there in court and act like you’re nothing to me? You’re everything to me Galadriel, everything,” he whispered against her lips and she gasped in delight. 

“Slap me again,” she begged, nipping at his lips, and he did as she asked, lightly slapping her right cheek then her left, and Galadriel groaned. 

“Do you like that?” He asked her, his eyes fixed on hers, and she nodded.

“Yes,” she said.

“Quenya,” he reminded her, slapping her cheek again.

“Yes I fucking like it, Celeborn,” she gasped and he shifted, settling her legs more securely about his waist so that he could thrust into her harder, as deep as he could go. 

“Do you want me to play with you?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yes!” She gasped, her words ragged, and he pulled the hem of her shirt up, tucking it into the collar so that he could reach her breasts. He tugged gently at her nipples before rolling them roughly between his fingers, and Galadriel wailed, pushing her head back against the wall. 

“How do I feel Galadriel?” He asked her.

“So good,” she panted in Quenya. “So deep, so big.” She was barely coherent. “Tell me, Celeborn,” she begged as he slapped her breasts, “tell me again about us.”

He grinned, happy to oblige, teeth nibbling at the tip of her ear. “They won’t stop us, Galadriel. They’ll never stop us. The world is ours and we’ll build our kingdom atop the cinders of their malcontent. The stones they throw shall only build our walls the stronger and if anyone opposes us then I will lay their kingdoms at your feet.”

He could feel her thighs trembling as he pounded into her as hard as he was able, holding her tight to him. “Cum for me,” he whispered and Galadriel nodded. 

“I’m so close,” she gasped in Quenya and he thrust into her deep and hard. Galadriel groaned in the coming onslaught of her orgasm, her thighs trembling, quick little gasps escaping her parted lips, her eyes fixed on his as her cunt began to tighten and spasm, drawing him in even further as she clasped her legs more tightly about his waist. His name was a whispered prayer on her lips, repeated a thousand times. “Oh I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” she said, her voice a sob of pleasure, her fingernails digging tightly into his back through his shirt, and Celeborn pressed his lips to hers.

It was so hard for him not to cum. The rhythmic contractions of her cunt that her orgasm had brought on nearly pushed him over the edge. And then there was the fact that she was so beautiful, especially in the throes of orgasm, but most overwhelming of all was knowing that she and he shared the same vision, in which they stood together side by side, one as equal as the other, two powers united.

For a moment she went limp in his arms, her eyes rolling back, vacant. “Galadriel?” He asked softly, concerned, but in the next instant her eyes regained focus and she collapsed against him breathing hard, her shoulders trembling, legs quaking. “Are you alright?” He asked her and she nodded, swallowing hard.

“More than alright,” she said breathlessly, her eyes meeting his as she smiled. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.” He grinned, beginning to thrust again, slow and deep. Galadriel shuddered.

“I’m so close,” he whispered in her ear and she moaned, twining her arms around his neck more tightly, her teeth nipping at his throat, and for a moment he hoped that his time she would let him. 

“Celeborn we mustn’t,” she said at last, dashing his hopes, and he groaned in frustration, pumping into her a few more times for good measure. “I want it as much as you do, but we mustn’t, not until we are wed,” she murmured, brushing a strand of silver hair behind his ear. She unwrapped her legs from his waist and reluctantly he set her down, pulling out of her. Compared to the tight heat of her cunt, the air felt cool and unsatisfying. “I’m sorry,” Galadriel said, placating him with a gentle kiss. “Let me help you?”

He swallowed, nodding as she pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him against the wall. In the moment before she pulled her breeches back up and buttoned them he was pleased to catch a glimpse of the sticky mess between her legs. 

“Touch yourself, Celeborn,” Galadriel whispered as his back connected with the wall and he obliged, wrapping his hand firmly around his shaft and beginning to stroke himself. He was already dripping wet from being within her and found his hand glided quite easily up and down. “Imagine the day when we will be wed,” Galadriel purred, leaning up against him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her delicate lips tracing the edge of his jaw. “Imagine what it will be like to cum in me for the first time, as deep as you can, until my tight little cunt is so full that it begins to run out of me. I’ll be such a sticky mess, your seed deep within me, smeared on the insides of my thighs, all over our sheets. And we’ll do it again and again, until we’re completely exhausted. No more sneaking away…that night we’ll sleep in each other’s arms.”

He stroked his hand over the head of his cock, shivering from the sensation, wiping away beads of precum with his thumb. Galadriel teased him, placing the lightest of kisses upon his lips before she drew away and he tried to ensnare her lips again but she did not allow it. He groaned, the fervency of his strokes increasing, feeling his cock swell even further in his grasp as he approached orgasm. “Doesn’t feel as good as me does it?” Galadriel asked. In any other situation he would have glared at her but he was too far gone to argue at the moment. “You want to feel my tight little cunt wrapped around your cock, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he panted.

“Quenya,” Galadriel commanded, slapping him lightly, her eyes dancing with mischief. He frantically wracked his brain for what little Quenya he knew.

“Y…yes I want…I want to be inside you,” he stammered at last. She took his free hand and guided it to her breast while he continued to stroke himself, sliding his hand all the way down the shaft and over the head of his cock, groaning with each stroke, his legs trembling. Galadriel slapped him again for good measure and now he understood why she had asked him to do it to her. The contrast between the pleasure and the sharp stinging in his cheek was exquisite. 

“Tell me what you want,” Galadriel commanded him before pressing her lips to his, sliding her tongue into his mouth. “Tell me in Quenya,” she whispered as she pulled away. 

“I want…I want to fuck you from behind,” he groaned with little care as to whether or not his Quenya was correct. “I want to spank you. I want to watch the way my cock disappears inside of your tight cunt. I want you on your hands and knees begging me to take you…” And he got no further before he spilled himself with a groan, trembling, his seed spurting out over his hand and dripping to the cobblestones below while Galadriel rubbed her hands soothingly across his chest, pressing gentle kisses to his lips. His cock twitched and quivered in his grasp and he thought that he would never stop cumming as the hot sticky liquid continued to pour over his hand. Moaning, he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Galadriel’s and she smiled.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ERU DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” A familiar voice shouted and Celeborn felt the blood drain from his face. Galadriel shrieked, and they both turned to see Finrod standing in the entryway to the courtyard, his expression livid, face flushed red with rage. 

“You shameless scoundrel! That’s my sister!” The golden-haired prince roared, a vein ticking in his forehead. 

“Finrod, it’s not…it’s…we’re in love!” Celeborn said in his defense, but the courtyard echoed with the grating sound of steel as Finrod drew his sword and charged Celeborn, who had the presence of mind to run for his axe. But Finrod had the advantage of having had his wits about him before they had realized he was there and thus he was able to come between Celeborn and his weapon before he could reach it.

“Finrod stop!” Galadriel shrieked, her voice hoarse with fear as her brother turned his sword on her lover, but Celeborn proved agile enough to dodge the blow that Finrod had aimed at him. Had Finrod been less angry, and thereby more steady of hand, he would never have missed. 

“I thought you were my friend!” He shouted at Celeborn and the Sinda was forced to dodge yet another blow, surrendering himself to the realization that he would never be able to get past Finrod to reach his axe. What followed was a mad chase about the courtyard that ended with Celeborn taking refuge behind a tree while Finrod stood on the other side of it, attempting to determine whether going to the right or the left would more easily enable him to dispatch Celeborn to Mandos’s halls.

“I asked you to keep her safe, to look after her, to ensure her happiness! Instead you have put your knife in my back, Celeborn! How dare you seduce her?” Finrod shouted, lost in rage.

“I never did!” Celeborn shouted. “We love one another and whatever has passed between us has ever been from love an no other cause! Leave her be, Finrod!”

“Finrod stop!” Galadriel screamed, tears pouring down her face. “Stop it! Stop it! I love him!” She reached for her brother’s arm but he shook her off, pointing a stern finger at her.

“I will not stand by and allow him to disgrace you in such a manner. I will not…allow,” Finrod’s voice cracked and unshed tears glimmered in his eyes, “him to…to hurt you, make a mockery of you.”

“Finrod! I love him!” Galadriel cried. “He has never disgraced me nor has he hurt me!”

But Celeborn had taken the opportunity of Finrod’s momentary distraction to dart around the tree in a mad dash to reach his axe and Finrod was on his heels almost instantly. And, though Celeborn was taller than Finrod, he was not as nimble, and it was only the matter of an instant before Finrod had grasped hold of the Sinda’s long silver ponytail. 

Celeborn tumbled to the ground, splayed on his back. “She’s my little sister!” Finrod cried, his voice a gasping sob as he swung wildly, and it was fortunate indeed that his swing was so ill aimed. Had it not been, it was his sister who would have been injured and not her lover, for she had thrown herself between the two princes. As it was, the gleaming blade still came within a hair’s breadth of her throat and Finrod’s eyes grew wide with horror as he cast the sword away as if nothing were more hateful to him.

“Artanis,” he gasped, his voice a strangled sob, “forgive me.” 

“I love him as if he were my own soul,” Galadriel said, her voice trembling with the remnants of fear and she felt Celeborn’s hand slip into her own. Never before had she observed even a hint of fright in Celeborn, but now she could feel that his hand was trembling. 

“You are certain,” Finrod said, “that this is what you want?” And Galadriel nodded resolutely. 

“I have never been more sure,” she replied.

“Do you intend to wed her?” Finrod asked, turning to Celeborn, still suspicious eyes lingering upon the Sinda. 

“I do, whether you will grant your permission or not,” Celeborn said, “though I would rather have your consent for her sake. I would have asked for her hand already did she not fear so deeply your reaction.”

“Well, let it not be said that you have ever wanted for boldness, Prince of Doriath,” Finrod said with a sigh, though his expression softened a bit. “Indeed, you are perhaps so bold that you tread willingly where others fear to walk. There are few who delight in the love of a woman as strong-willed as my sister.”

“Then it is fortunate for me that so many are fools,” Celeborn replied. It seemed to have been the correct answer and Finrod’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile, but at last he could hide it no more and a broad grin blossomed upon his face.

“I am sorry for having doubted you,” he said, clasping Celeborn’s hand firmly. “Here you have been my friend for all of these years and yet I did not trust in your integrity. Sometimes I lose all sense when those I love are…” Finrod stopped speaking with a grimace, extracting his hand from Celeborn’s. 

“Ah…sorry,” Celeborn mumbled, awkwardly clearing his throat as Finrod surveyed his sticky hand with distaste.

“Well then…” Finrod said, turning towards his sister. “You truly love him Artanis?” He asked her. 

“I do,” she said resolutely, twining her fingers all the more securely between Celeborn’s.

“Then you have my blessing,” Finrod said, “and it is gladly given but do…er…” He sighed. “Well what I mean to say is, although the passion of love may run hot, if you intend to indulge in…er…such masturbatory endeavors…it might behoove you to seek someplace more private.”

“Duly noted,” Galadriel said with a smile as Finrod eyed his hand with a grimace once more. 

“I…er…I’ll leave you two be then,” Finrod said. “It seems my hand is in need of a thorough scrubbing.” The two princes exchanged awkward glances and stiff bows as Finrod departed.

“I told you he wouldn’t take it well!” Galadriel exclaimed, turning on Celeborn as soon as she could be sure that her brother was well out of earshot, but Celeborn only laughed.

“He would have taken it worse had he walked in 10 minutes before he did,” he said.


End file.
